


Take Me Home

by Khthonia



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Brotp, Gen, Mobscast, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, drunkan, kinda it's a weird steampunk noir-minecraftia hybrid au i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2018-01-04 20:18:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1085265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khthonia/pseuds/Khthonia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The city's most dangerous technomage does what he does best and needs someone to help his drunk ass out of the bar. Somehow it always comes down to Hannah.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Me Home

Lomadia’s boots fell heavily against the wood of the faintly groaning deck, maneuvering around the crates and rations she was responsible for transporting. Cold winds caught softly in her sails, fluttering the heavy fabric and rocking the bulk of the vessel softly in their grasp as the moon glowed brightly overhead. Mr. Owl had gone off for the night, but by dawn he would be back in his perch, head sleepily tucked into his chest. Docked high above the city, the lights cast a bright halo from below, ringing the shadowed airship in light while the fans at the bottom of the hull lazily churned, keeping afloat a vessel that was far removed from the dirigibles of the Skylords’.

She’d been checking the last of her cargo when the device on her waist went off. A glance at the time made her heart sink in her chest and her eyes roll irritably.

"Which pub." She asks flatly into her phone, leaning on the banister of her ship. "And how far is the Captive Creeper from the Sky Port? …Yes, I’ll come fetch him."

She’d been anxiously awaiting this since she first flew into the city that week, making it almost a relief to have at last occurred. At least he had the foresight to get smashed at a bar within easy distance, although she didn’t enjoy the implication that he deliberately planned to call on her and assumed she’d come. There have been occasions where she didn’t, told him to piss off and deal, but it inevitably led to her hating herself for feeling bad and worrying- not to mention him holding it over her head for ages afterwards.

He wouldn’t be nearly as offended as he’d claim (stumbling home inebriated and sick was his weekend pastime) but there was still the danger he’d start making ‘science’ in his lab despite whilst smashed as hell, and that never ended well for anyone.

So Lomadia tucked a scarf on beneath the collar of her thick aeronaut coat, and descended the walkways. Fortunately it was warmer down in the streets, albeit louder and more crowded. She resists the urge to key the administrator’s vehicle (the rates for parking here get more absurd every time she visits) and manages to hail a cabbie and take it further into the city, watching the colors and lights flit by with the towering black buildings.

* * *

 

The Captive Creeper Bar & Grill was actually a bit far removed, clearly meant to cater to the hardened rail-workers, Ship and Skylords that frequent the transport district rather than the mainstream public. There’s a bulletin outside, plastered with labor notices and advertisements for similar work. What looked like a cage was also to the left of the bar, albeit empty. Huh.

The nearby sign reads ‘For Hardcore Badasses Only’ and Lomadia can’t help but raise her eyebrow slightly. No offense to Duncan, but despite his penchant for trouble he’d never been much of a brawler. 

It’s mostly dark inside, lights turned dim and chairs turned over atop the tables. Lomadia adjusts her hat and raps on the door, and a few seconds later a rather exhausted and anxious-looking blonde woman appears. Lomadia felt for her.

"Ah, Lomadia is it? I’m Minty, the one who called about Lalna. He’s having a bit of trouble getting out of my bar."

"Alright, just show me where he is and I’ll take him off your hands."

The relief on that poor woman’s face; bless her soul.

Lomadia was showed to the restroom, now the main source of light in the bar. With a heavy sigh she leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest.

"Oh, look at you. Disgraceful."

Duncan laughs tiredly from where he’s slumped down against the wall, damn labcoat undone and disheveled. His goggles are pushed up to his forehead, exposing glassy blue eyes and a rather impressive shiner. So someone actually did get around to punching his smug face. She can’t say she doesn’t understand the sentiment.

"I’ll have you know I actually haven’t thrown up yet."

"That just means I’ll be helping you home on a full stomach. Fantastic."

"S’not that bad. Just too… heh, too lazy to go all the way back to my flat, is all. Missed you."

"I’m already here, there’s no need to start buttering me up now."

He’s more articulate than expected, but sounds unsettlingly winded, like he’s just been out running (ha). Lomadia’s eyes narrow in mild suspicion, trying to gouge if she should be worried and how it might weigh against her annoyance. Eventually she just sighs and makes an upward motion.

"Okay, enough of this. You’ve already inconvenienced the poor barmaid as it is."

It’s when he tries to stand that his drunkenness really shows, because the bastard just falls to pieces, laughing at his own lack of coordination.

She grabs him beneath the arm and hauls him to his feet herself, taking his weight until he gains some semblance of a footing and Minty holds the door open for them, letting them out into the night. The cabbie’s still waiting, although he eyes Duncan warily while the giggling sod’s nudged into the cab.

The docks are closer so she decides to take him back with her, however a bad idea that may seem. He pats her arm clumsily.

"Just like old times, right."

"Don’t you even start. You’re just damn lucky I was actually in the city this time."

"Ha, yep. Calling you, it’s just the default setting."

Lomadia pays the cabbie and wow, everyone’s just relieved to be seeing the back of Duncan tonight. She helps him into the Sky Port lift, leaning him against the wall as they ascend. 

"Isn’t it a Tuesday? The hell are you doing smashed at this hour?"

"Why wouldn’t I want to be smashed at this hour.”

"Because you’re supposed to be a grown man with work in the morning? And I thought you said you were the only competent person over there. Terrifying."

This triggers a new bout of snickering, and good lord he’s such a giggly drunk.

"It’s ridiculous, Hannah. Don’t believe what they say about Honeydew Inc. They’d be sooo screwed without me."

"Glad to see it’s doing wonders for your modesty, too." She starts slightly at the use of her True Name, but figures no one else is around to hear anyway.

The lift tugs to a stop, and Lomadia gets to lugging him down the walkway, hoping he doesn’t get it into his head to throw himself over the railing, thinking he’s got his jet pack on or something. 

"If you throw up on me, I’m dropping you. Not having it."

"What would happen if I just vomited over the edge. Would it go somewhere?"

"It’d go down, surely. Don’t get me in trouble, for goodness sake."

"Imma aim for the administrator’s car."

"Cheeky."

They make it to the ship in one piece, Mr. Owl having returned in time to give her and her companion a very judgmental look. She shrugs haplessly to the best of her ability and escorts Duncan to the restroom, because if he soils her ship she’ll haul him overboard, consequences be damned.

Once he’s seated under proper lighting, the bruises mottling his skin become more apparent. 

"So who’ve you upset and what’s the damage." 

"What makes you think it was my fault? S’not very nice."

"Was it Rythian? I can’t really imagine Sjin punching you in the face."

"Then you don’t know him like I do."

"I’ve never gotten on anyone’s bad side like you have, either. Why do you do this, you silly man."

"I don’t knooooooow.” He flails but the laughter doesn’t leave his voice as she prods at the black eye with one hand and reaches for the first aid with the other. “My life’s not easy, Hannah.”

"Oh please."

“‘s true! I’m like, the only human in this bloody place, trying to get people to take me seriously. Aliens. Dwarves. Enderborn, ugh.” He huffs. “And none of them can take a joke, it’s sad.”

"Don’t pretend you do what you do for any reason other than the fun of it."

"Well, yeah. But showing up the others is fun too. Now people think I’m dangerous, it’s great."

"Hm."

Duncan is dangerous; he rivals Sjin for the smartest person in the city. Without moral boundaries his inventions are no joke, and atop that he’s a mage- his hunger for knowledge and power defying all else.

"You’re ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous." Lomadia mutters, prodding him over in search for serious wounds. "So I’m to assume that there actually isn’t a reason you got your ass handed to you and then made a nuisance of yourself in a local pub?"

"Ow. No. Yes? It wasn’t my fault."

"It never is, is it."

"Why does everyone have to bust my balls?" He whines, flinching away from the cold ointment as she dabs his eye. "I never do anything. I just like, do my own thing and react to other people picking fights. Then everyone freaks out when I end what they started!”

"And does your ‘own thing’ involve messing with shit you shouldn’t?"

"Who says what should or shouldn’t be messed with? I’m a grown man, dammit. Everyone else can piss off." He sticks his tongue out at her and she responds by applying a bandage to his cheek with a bit more force than necessary. 

"You’ve always been upsettingly talkative for a drunk man. Figures your mouth would be the last thing to go."

"I’ll be dead before I stop talking, probably."

"Well that explains the appeal everyone sees in killing you."

He laughs and gives her a pathetic shove, pulling his goggles all the way off. 

"… How long are you in town again, anyway."

"Why, planning a disproportionate act of vengeance against whomever hit you?"

"Minty saw you. People shouldn’t know you know me."

"She seems nice enough."

"She runs the Captive Creeper." A pause. "Oh yeah, and she’s close with Sjin. Oops."

Lomadia puts her face in her palm. “For fuck’s sake, Duncan. Ugh, whatever. I’ve got no issue with Sjin and can take care of myself.”

While this is true, she’s always been skeptical of the overly-friendly man. She knows him, knows he’s Duncan’s rival and does her best to keep both her resources and the location of her island secret. Sjin’s actually a lot like Duncan: despite a cheery exterior he’ll get his hands into anything that seems of interest, and for no reasons other than curiosity and because he can. The denizens and powers of Owl Island are hers to protect, and the more people who think she’s just another nomadic trade & transport flyer, the better.

"Loathe though I am to be involved in your nonsense, if me being here stalls you from getting another war started between you, Sjin and Rythian, then I can bear to stay a little while."

"What, Hannaaaah-"

"Calm down. Besides, Sjin and Sips are back together now, right? Stirring up trouble with them is downright absurd."

"I can take em. Sjin never gets Sips involved anyway."

"Rythian’s got a partner now."

"Yeah, that’ll last. Oh, I’ve gotten an apprentice too recently." He says, eyes lighting up with the sudden memory. "Huh. Whatsername…"

"Well whoever she is, maybe you can call her for help next time."

"Nyeh. She’s got infected by Flux or Taint or something. It’s weird. Don’t want her touching me."

"Every time you open your mouth I just get a little more done with talking to you? You’re just- I am simply beyond words."

"It really wasn’t my fault! She fell in the containment!"

"Did you push her?"

"I honestly can’t remember."

"Fuck off." Lomadia steps out for a water bottle and throws it against his chest. "It makes me happy to think you’ll be falling over yourself in pain by morning."

The inside of her ship is proofed against sunlight to protect its nocturnal residents, but if Duncan thinks he’s getting any milk or healing potions from her, he can get stuffed.

Maybe. She’ll see how bad he feels first.

"I did have a prospective job coming up, but I don’t think I’ll be accepting it."

"Why not?" He asks, trying to summon the strength and motor functions to uncap the bottle.

"Someone wanted me to bring supplies to a beleaguered village out in a mountain biome."

"Oh that’s clearly a lost cause."

"Obviously." She said, "A drain on my time and resources as well."

Going out of her way to help a small village in one of the most difficult terrains (open cave systems and massive overhangs made it a breeding ground for hostiles) wasn’t her idea of a good time, and even if the village hadn’t been overrun by now, chances are they couldn’t pay her enough to make it worth her expense. In the end Lomadia’s a realist, not a hero.

"Why don’t you go back to Owl Island already."

"I need money to keep the place up the way I want, and there’s work in the city for someone like me."

"Goddammit Hannah. What more does the place need, I set up all your systems last time I was there. You broke it, didn’t you. You’re ridiculous."

He’s partly annoyed, partly amused, but clearly crashing now. His voice has become flat with his eyes half-lidded, and Lomadia finally takes the water bottle from his loose grip.

"There, just drink something before you pass out, will you." She says, twisting off the top. "Maybe when you’ve dried up you’ll tell me just what happened tonight."

"It’s none o’ yo business."

"Well excuse you."

She takes his shoes and sets him up on the cabin sofa, but spends the night keeping him on his side or managing his hot-to-cold flushes. Even in his times of calm she can’t help but keep checking his breathing, remembering how winded he’d sounded. When he finally topples out of the couch and gets sick in the bathroom she’s relieved because at least that’s out of the way.

The rest of the night is spent on the bathroom floor because Duncan’s body has decided it’s fed up with moving. They talk and giggle sleepily about nonsense, slumped on couch cushions with a brutalized loaf of bread they’d been too lazy to slice properly.

"I really ought to be concerned about you." Lomadia says, staring blankly up at the darkened ceiling.

"You’re not." Duncan mumbles, eyes closed. "I can take care of myself."

"Clearly."

"Shut up." He swats at her, laughing lightly. "You can’t live in the port."

"Hm?"

"If you stay."

"We’ve established that I can’t go to your place either."

"Nng. I’ll call Kim."

"Who?"

"My apprentice. Remembered her name."

"The girl you’ve mutated? I am aflush with gratitude."

"Ssssh. Sleep now. Talking later."

"Fine."

**Author's Note:**

> I can’t decide if I think they’re twins or moirails or both help me  
> (psst say hi to me on tumblr at wisp-queen)


End file.
